File 4
"So…"
"So…"
Meia had decided long ago that Starbucks, of all places, was the best of cafes in which to hide and discuss pertinent information. The wiring that ran through the walls, set up for all forms of communication, made it so that no bugs or tracing could function properly. And the people who frequented it were often so trapped in their own worlds that they rarely noticed what was happening around them. So long as they had their long-winded coffee drinks, and perhaps someone as self-important as themselves, they were good.
"So… you're an assassin."
"Yup."
It had not been an easy conversation. With the attack of Telemachus and Nicodemus on her half-finished apartment, Meia had been forced to divulge in Quatre the secret that was supposed to be closely guarded. Well, one of them. Quatre, to his credit, seemed to be taking it well enough.
"And those two men?"
"I mentored them, a long time ago," she answered, looking down into her Italian Soda. Donalbain, who had apparently sworn off such drinks, was napping quietly on Quatre's head. It was a humorous sight, but Meia had no laughter in her. "A long, long time ago, when they first joined on with the organization. They're older than I am, but I've been training since I was four, so I have more experience." She leaned forward on the table and her shoulders sagged as she dropped her face into her hands. "Six months ago, Nicodemus began having breakdowns, off the field, of course. Telemachus started taking jobs himself, and Nico stayed with me at base. I left, for a job, and…" She stopped a minute and shook her head. "I came back and everything'd gone to hell. Nico was locked up in the psychiatric ward, and Telemachus with him, but no one would tell me why. I still don't know." She took a long, slow drink of her soda, still shaking her head. "Quatre, you have to understand, those weren't my boys. Something happened to them, and I aim to find out what."
"Is that such a good idea?" inquired Quatre, reaching up and carefully removing the sleeping felitty from his head before settling it in his lap. "Miss Meia, they could have been sent by your organization. If you go back, they may try again."
"I know, Quatre, I know, but Nicodemus and Telemachus…" She trailed off, then heaved a heavy sigh. "You're right, of course. I've been digging too deep. I need to back off and get out of sight for a while."
"This will sound presumptuous of me, Miss Meia, but you're welcome to come back to the desert with me," said Quatre, looking down at the still-sleeping feline in his lap. Meia tilted her head to the side inquisitively and Quatre heaved a small sigh. "I'm sorry, but I cannot keep lying to you, regardless of my mission requirements." He looked up and watched confusion bloom on her face.
"Your… what?" she asked in a calm voice that sounded as if she were forcing air through her teeth. He almost winced, but didn't - if she was angry with him, well, she hadn't exactly been completely truthful, now had she?
"Miss Meia, our meeting was not entirely coincidental," he admitted, almost sheepishly. "I was sent by the Preventers to watch you, discreetly, but Kala interfered. No, she doesn't know that I was here, originally, to find you, but if she hadn't insisted, I could have followed the guidelines of my original mission. As it is, I've failed most of those, so I might as well fail the others." She was still silent in return to his statement, so he continued on. "I know that you are meeting one of the other Preventers tonight, at seven," he stated, insistently. "You should still meet him, and from there decide where you want to go. The Preventers will offer you protection and-"
"Protection?" The word was hissed out between clenched teeth. "I do not need protection, Quatre Raberba Winner."
"Those men were three times your size!" he argued. "Miss Meia, please-"
"Telemachus and Nicodemus are rookies!" she seethed. "I can handle myself against rookies."
"Telemachus and Nicodemus no longer exist," stated a calm, even voice over Meia's shoulder. There was a scrap of chair and a third joined their party. Quatre's face lit up and he gave a relieved smile. Meia, to her credit, didn't give the scream of frustration that was pressing against her throat.
"Why am I not surprised to see you?" she asked sharply, glaring at the familiar youth. Donalbain's head peeked above the table edge, dazed and sleepy, but he gave a low, warning growl at the sight of the young man who had previously accousted Meia near the fountain only a week before.
"Meia, the warrant for your death was issued by the Hill Organization twenty minutes ago," stated the young man with the dark green eyes. "Every assassin you've ever known will be after you. Quatre's compound is the safest place for you."
"I don't want to be safe." Meia spat the last word as if it made her sick to even think it. "I want to find out what happened to Telemachus and Nico-"
"And you won't if you're dead," returned Quatre, sharply enough for Meia took look taken aback.
"I can't just abandon them!" she said defensively. "They're my responsibility-"
"Then you need to have patience," spoke up the other boy. Meia looked over at him and narrowed her eyes.
"Who the hell are you, anyway?" she questioned. "You never told me."
"My name is Trowa Barton," he replied, "and I am a Preventer, like Quatre. You and I were supposed to meet later this evening, however, things have changed."
"Obviously," answered Meia, dryly. "Look, thank you for all of your proffered help, but I think I can handle myself, especially against Telemachus and Nicodemus."
"And Hera?" inquired Trowa, lifting an eyebrow. "Hermes, Hades… Demetrius?" Something passed over her face, a blankness that drained all of the color from her skin. She heaved a sigh and dropped her face into her hands.
"Good lord, I'm screwed." Quatre and Trowa exchanged a glance, but neither said a word, even as Meia lifted her head from her hands. "I don't really have a choice, do I? I go with you, or I get killed." She was quiet a moment, then shook her head. "I think I'd rather go with you."